


Harbinger

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-18
Updated: 2006-03-17
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8091781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Trip and T'Pol have some issues. (07/19/2002)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Coauthored with Ruth.  


* * *

"Personal Log, August 25, 2156...I haven't made many of these in the years on board Enterprise. My head is full an' I need to get stuff out. I've never been one to dote or dwell on things, but I think it's safe to say my life has changed. At first I thought it changed a couple hours ago, in the beat of a heart. But as I made my way back to my quarters I realized my life has been changin' for five or so years. I just hadn't seen it. 

"When I first came on board, I had a huge chip on my shoulder an' I knew it. 'This T'Pol' I said, 'what an Ice Queen.' I hated Vulcans and everything they stood for. Havin' to work next to a Vulcan everyday was less than thrillin' but I dealt with it. Criticized, scrutinized, accused her of stuff I knew damn well wasn't true. I tried anything to get her off this ship. She never backed down once. I slowly came to admire that about her. On a ship full of humans, whom she most certainly detested, she remained the outcast. Except for the Doc, though he relates to humans better. Anyway, I realize now I felt kinda bad for her. I would never have admitted that five years ago, though.

"Things slowly began to change for me, as far as T'Pol was concerned. Cap'n made us work together often, as we did make a good team...assumin' we could ever keep it professional. We just never could seem to be in a room together without arguin' about somethin' Human vs. somethin' Vulcan. Eventually the arguin' just kinda stopped. I guess maybe we got tired of it. Over time, the bickerin' only came occasionally. And most of that was just for the hell of it. Our bickerin' turned to teasin', which eventually evolved into good-natured ribbin'. I always figgered T'Pol had a sense of humor, but she started to let it out a lot more often than I would have originally thought possible...bein' a Vulcan an' all."

Trip Tucker pushed the "pause" button on his recorder. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He needed a moment to get his mind back on track. He'd slowly been losing his train of thought. He was too busy thinking, processing the events of the evening. Hell, of the past few years which led him to this very moment.

About year into their mission the chief engineer had expressed an interest to T'Pol about learning some meditation techniques. He'd taken it quite seriously, figuring he could benefit from learning how to control his quick temper. He did benefit from it and so did his Engineering crew. Trip hadn't snapped at them for a long time, the atmosphere was calm even in the face of the many dangers they'd encountered. He'd mastered the ancient Vulcan art of self-control. Or at least a tangent of it. 

Once they'd conceded to some sort of friendship, T'Pol had invited him in every evening so they could meditate together. She didn't seem to mind the lack of privacy. Trip always figured T'Pol was still in Teacher mode and she believed that he could learn better in this environment. Maybe she just liked having him around. Either way, as the months passed into years, it had become a daily habit. Trip liked going to her quarters. They were warm and tranquil, much like his Vulcan friend. The irony never escaped him.

Now he thought back to that night about ten weeks ago. The night his life changed course. Trip was in T'Pol's quarters, meditating with her as they'd done for the past three years. They sat at the low table in her quarters, each deep in their own thoughts. As per Vulcan ritual, only three candles, their flames dancing and casting long shadows on the walls, lit the room. For whatever reasons, Trip had opened his eyes midway through the session to find her looking back at him.

As if compelled by some unknown force they both leaned forward. Their lips met for the first time ever. It hadn't been a passionate kiss, but it hadn't been chaste, either. It was...normal, Trip had thought. Like they'd been doing it all their lives. There had been no pretense or forethought to the kiss. Nor had there been anything afterward, either. They had simply leaned back, closed their eyes and resumed their meditation as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. If not for the events in the weeks that followed, Trip would have thought it might have been some kind of meditation-induced dream.

No mention had ever been made of it, but with the days and weeks to follow Trip had found himself a bit more relaxed than usual. He and T'Pol had engaged in small touches here and there, her hand on his arm or chest, his hand on her back or shoulder...little things. They'd stand closer together. They would even steal quick kisses in the lift or at the dinner table when the captain was late. They were not passionate lovers' kisses, but short pecks between friends. Still they never spoke of it. There was no need for that. It was just a natural thing. 

Trip pressed the "record" button and continued his log.

"I think I can honestly say that I've never been happier. Bein' away from my family was tough at first, but this crew has become my family. Makes things a lot easier out here in space. I learned so much in five years, stuff I wouldn't have ever dreamed of...like bein' so close to T'Pol. Who'da thought we'd end up best friends? I sure as hell didn't. But I think maybe I blew that all to hell tonight. Never thought that lack of sleep and not meditatin' would be the downfall of my friendship with her.

"Three days ago Cap'n Archer granted me permission to test the engines again. Over the years we'd gotten them up to Warp 6.5. I wanted them at seven. I knew we could get them to seven. There was definitely some risk involved but it was worth the try. Cap'n said okay, since we were in a quiet sector. That's when all hell broke loose."

The chief engineer thought back to a mere 72 hours ago. His team was excited at the prospect of pushing Warp 7 and everyone was operating at their peak efficiency. Unfortunately for Trip, the engines were not. T'Pol had been politely protesting, claiming the structural integrity would be compromised with that kind of speed.

"Nonsense, T'Pol," Trip had said. "We'll be fine! We know what we're doin' down here!"

The Vulcan raised her eyebrow and calmly stated, "You are bringing unnecessary danger to the ship and the crew, Commander."

"Will you stop bein' so negative," he said with a slight roll of his eyes. "Have a little confidence in your chief engineer!" Trip winked at her, smiled and returned to his work. After a few moments he called the bridge. "Tucker to Archer, we're ready to test."

The captain gave the OK and the engineering crew began to busy themselves. T'Pol had stood off in the corner, watching...

"A lot of violent shudderin' and a couple of minor hull breaches later, the crew an' I found ourselves wonderin' what the hell happened and Engineerin' was left with a huge mess to clean up. Half of the crew that was on duty at that time ended up in Sick Bay for treatment of burns and removal of shrapnel. What a goddamn fiasco. An' t'make matters worse, I had the Vulcan glarin' at me through all the smoke and sparks.

"Cap'n Archer called down immediately, demandin' to know what the hell just happened. I'll be damned if I can remember what I even told him. I was in Fix-it mode an' runnin' all over the place, securin' blown hatches and circuits. T'Pol stepped in to help, thank God, and along with the few uninjured people left on my crew we worked nonstop for hours on repairs.

"Before I even knew it, almost 24 hours had passed. Jon ordered T'Pol an' I to get some sleep. And that's how it went for the next three days. Me an' her workin' side by side for 12 hours, tryin' to catch a nap for an hour or two, and then back to work for 12 more hours. 

"I was gettin' snarky, she was gettin' snarky, hell even the captain was gettin' snarky. Tensions were high, bottled. I really screwed the proverbial pooch on this one. And T'Pol was there to remind me of it, too..."

Trip paced his quarters, thinking back to those three very long days. He was exhausted but couldn't sleep. Especially not after what just happened tonight. The lack of sleep and meditation caught up to him and Trip had lost his temper. He and T'Pol had been stuffed together in a Jefferies tube, repairing more conduits. Apparently the lack of mediation had gotten to her as well. She'd provoked him. She knew exactly which button to push.

"I told you this was a dangerous course of action, Commander," she'd said coolly, holding the panel steady while he welded it back in place.

Trip stopped what he was doing and stared at her, feeling the last quick of his fuse ignite. "That's a bit childish, ain't it?" he'd asked. "Didn't think 'I told you so' was part of Vulcan vocabulary." He was seething.

"I _did_ tell you, but you refused to acknowledge it and now look where we are."

He narrowed his eyes at her and dropped his welding torch with a bang. Trip backed out of the Jefferies tube before he blew his last remaining gasket. T'Pol followed him quietly. He felt her eyes burning into the back of his head as he worked his way to his little corner 'office.' Trip pulled up a diagram of Engineering to see what still needed to be repaired. They'd gotten most everything under control but there were still a few spots that needed attention. He was about to return to work when T'Pol confronted him.

"I would appreciate it if you did not walk away from me during a conversation, Commander," T'Pol said, hands clasped behind her back. She had that indignant look on her face, the one that used to set Trip off so many years ago.

He whirled around and faced her, hands on his hips. Trip took a step towards her. "I do not have anything to say to you right now, Sub-Commander."

T'Pol cocked her head to the side and glared at him. "You have nothing to say? Your arrogance almost killed us."

Trip's jaw dropped open in disbelief. "My _arrogance_?? Since when is wantin' to improve on the engines arrogance? I was just doin' what I've been doin' for the last five years! My job!"

"You did not heed my warnings. Warp seven is an excessive speed, one that the structural integrity of this ship is not equipped to handle. Perhaps on a newer starship, but not Enterprise."

"How're we supposed to know that if we don't even try?" Trip said through gritted teeth. He took another step towards her and continued. "You know damn well we ain't gonna learn anything if we don't take risks! I knew the risks and the consequences-" She cut him off.

"And yet you felt compelled to proceed with your rather cavalier course of action. Taking risks based on educated hypotheses are one thing. Taking a risk because you are impatient is quite another," T'Pol stated. She stood her ground even as Trip took yet another step towards her. He was now dangerously close to her.

"Don't even tell me how to do my job or how to run these engines!" he said in an angry whisper. His face had taken on an interesting shade of crimson. "I don't need any of your goddamn Vulcan logic and your goddamn Vulcan superiority right now."

T'Pol finally took a step back and to her dismay found herself against the bulkhead. "Losing control of your temper will not accomplish anything, Commander."

"What in the hell do you know about losing control?" Trip was almost yelling. 

"Apparently not as much as you do," she said in a flat, even voice. T'Pol was the picture of calm, yet Trip could see something in her eyes as he glared at her. 

Several of the crewmen that were still in Engineering stopped what they were doing and began to cast curious glances at their commanding officers. They hadn't seen a confrontation like this for quite some time. Commander Tucker actually had the Sub-Commander backed into a corner. To her credit, they noted, she seemed nonplussed by it.

"Just once," Trip growled, his hand braced against the bulkhead next to her ear, "I'd like to see you lose that precious control of yours..."

Standing toe to toe their gazes remained locked. Neither said a word for at least a seemingly eternal minute. The tension had shifted from anger and frustration to something more...primal. As Trip glared at T'Pol, the look in her eyes confused him. Even though she projected a cool exterior, her eyes betrayed her. There was something there. But he couldn't decide whether it was anger, fear or something more carnal. That look in her eyes nearly undid him right there. 

Looking past him finally, she noted the Engineering staff openly gaping at their performance. Not able to tolerate him or his temper any longer, T'Pol lifted her chin indignantly, placed two hands firmly against Trip's chest and shoved him away. She calmly strode across Engineering and breezed out. 

Trip stared after her. He found his legs and followed her out with a parting shot to his crew. "Not a word, people. I don't wanna hear a goddamn word. Get back to work!"


	2. Chapter 2

Trip stormed down the hall after her, blind with rage. He didn't know what he was going to say to T'Pol but he supposed he'd figure that out when he caught up to her. The nerve of her, after all these years! Blaming him for the collapse of the warp field! Blaming him for the coolant leaks! Accusing him of not doing his homework on this experiment!! Who the hell did she think she was?!? 

The chief engineer caught sight of the Vulcan just as she entered a turbolift. He stuck his foot in to catch it before it left. Trip just barely squeezed in as the doors shut tight. They stood there in silence, side by side, not daring to look at each other. Trip reached out and pressed the button to stop the lift.

Counting to ten first before speaking, Trip said in a calm voice, "What the hell is your problem, Sub-Commander?" He still would not look at her. He was afraid if he did he may do something he would most certainly regret. It was all he could do to contain his temper.

"I thought we've already discussed this, Commander," said T'Pol, matching his tone. She stood ramrod straight, staring forward at the wall. "You and your carelessness are my current problem." She paused. "I disagree with the way you handled this 'experiment' and almost your entire engineering crew has paid the price."

"The price?" he echoed. Trip looked up to the ceiling, his hands resting firmly on his hips. He couldn't believe this. 

"The price of failure," she said simply. "Had you researched this more thoroughly, you would have come to the same conclusion that I did."

He turned to her then, visibly restraining himself by balling his fists. "Research has nothin' t'do with this, darlin'! I know those engines like the back of my hand! I know what they're capable of!!"

T'Pol looked at him then. "Obviously, Commander, you don't."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You did not listen to me," she replied and turned away again.

Trip's mouth dropped open. He took a short step towards her. "Is that what this is all about? I didn't listen to you? I'm supposed to heed every warnin' that comes outta your mouth?" Trip paused and a small smile played across his lips. "You're offended."

"Don't flatter yourself Commander," T'Pol said quickly. "Vulcans don't get offended."

"Cut the crap, T'Pol." He felt as if he regained some ground. "That line used to work on me, but not anymore. Not for four years. Vulcans feel every bit as much as humans do." As he spoke, his tone softened and he had moved forward again. 

She turned to face him once more. They were nearly nose to nose. She could feel his breath wash over her face. The heat from his body seemed to surround her, pulling at her barely controlled emotions. But it was the look in his eyes that made something in her snap. She opened her mouth as if to speak but suddenly changed her mind. Perhaps it was his close proximity, or perhaps it was the lack of sleep, but T'Pol found herself grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him to her for a searing kiss.

Caught off-guard, Trip braced his hands against the wall of the lift, almost trapping her. His body responded before his brain comprehended what was happening. He returned the kiss, his mouth opened to hers, feeling her tongue inside instantly. He pressed himself against her, and wrapped his arms around her rigid body. He felt her relax slightly. He could feel her hands in his hair, on his neck, her fingertips tracing the line of his jaw. Trip's own hands journeyed up her back, over her shoulders to cup her face. He felt himself harden in response to her soft whimpers and caresses. 

Her body seemed to answer his without her permission. The intense need to touch him was something T'Pol couldn't wrap her mind around. She deepened the kiss even more, running her hands down his chest. 

Trip mimicked her actions, his left hand sliding down to cup her right breast. His thumb stroked over her already hardened nipple, evoking a soft moan from somewhere in her throat. His penis twitched in response, eliciting a moan of his own. 

Breaking the kiss so he could nibble his way to her ear, Trip felt his knees weakening. He pushed her up against the wall again. As he sucked in her earlobe between his teeth, T'Pol wrapped a leg around his thigh. He unconsciously thrust against her.

"Je-zhus," he whispered, his hands falling to her waist. He reached around and grabbed her buttocks, pulling her into him with one hand. The other hand subconsciously traveled to her stomach, slowly sliding lower.

T'Pol found his mouth again, their tongues battling for dominance. Her hand slipped between them, finding that hard part of him pressing into her hip. Trip gasped as she felt him through his uniform.

As she drew her hand out from between them, T'Pol's elbow hit the release button on the lift. With a jerk, the lift began to ascend. They both stumbled, breaking their contact. It seemed to jar them back to their senses.

"Nirsh!" She pulled away from him and stared wildly at him. "Kroykah!"

"Huh?" stammered Trip as T'Pol shoved him away once more. He noticed a very distinct greenish flush had taken hold of her cheeks. Whether it was embarrassment, arousal or a combination of both he wasn't sure.

The doors to the lift opened and in a flash, T'Pol was gone. Trip was left alone with his thoughts and his own arousal. "What the hell was that?" he wondered aloud. His senses were returning and a feeling of dread suddenly washed through him.

He stumbled out of the lift, deflated in spirit and body. His mind reeling, Trip meandered his way back to his quarters. Once inside, he stood there not knowing what to do. He was still half aroused by the encounter in the lift. His brain was screaming that it was wrong, yet his body disagreed completely.

Trip stripped off his uniform and headed for the bathroom. "A shower...a nice cold shower," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.


	3. Chapter 3

"So here I sit, wonderin' what the hell just happened. Actually, I'm pacin' my quarters like a caged animal. The cold shower didn't help at all. My head's jus' twirlin' in all different directions. 

"I never imagined that over the years things would lead to _this._ I guess Fate dealt us one hell of hand to play. Question is: Is T'Pol bluffing? Do I call that bluff or raise the stakes? I ain't sure how much more o' this I can take. I gotta know if I screwed up. I gotta know if she's pissed at me. I gotta know somethin', dammit. Hell...who'm I tryin' to kid? I just gotta be near her...with her...feel her...Jesus, I gotta know..."

Trip pushed "stop" on his recorder for the final time. He ran a hand through his still wet hair. He'd been wandering around his quarters naked, not bothering to dress after his shower. He pulled out a pair of sweats and his tank top from his dresser and threw them on. He paused for a split second to take a deep breath and wonder if he was doing the right thing. "Aw hell, " he muttered and hurried out his door.

* * *

For the first time in almost four days T'Pol had the opportunity to meditate, and she needed it. Her behavior this evening was illogical and quite inappropriate for a senior officer. T'Pol hadn't been thinking clearly, letting physical impulses reign over common sense and logic. She was struggling with tonight's meditation. It was more than just a lapse. It was a forbidden indulgence. An encounter with Commander Tucker was inevitable considering their heightened emotions from the stress and exhaustion. Neither one of them would dare admit it, and had they performed their daily meditations this wouldn't have happened. Or would it?

There was a buzz at her door. Before T'Pol could turn away her visitor, the door to her quarters whooshed open. Trip stepped inside the threshold and stood there in his blue Starfleet tank top and a grey pair of sweat pants. His feet were bare and his wet hair stood up at all angles on his head. His lips were pursed into a thin line, his brow furrowed. What was he doing here, she wondered.

"I don't recall inviting you in, Commander," said T'Pol coolly. She sat at her low table and blew out the candles. Trip watched her closely, hands on his hips. He noticed she was dressed only in a t-shirt and shorts. His heart began to thud.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. His voice sounded much huskier than normal.

"I didn't want you to come in to begin with, but that didn't stop you," replied T'Pol. She stood slowly, pretending to ignore the look in his eye. She turned and headed to the small bathroom. Trip followed behind her. 

"Just say the word, your Highness, an' I'll go," he dared her, lingering near the doorframe. "Tell me you don't want to see me, that you don't want me here with you."

Trip watched as the Vulcan splashed water on her face, glaring at him in the mirror. She said nothing. He stepped behind her, glaring back at her reflection. T'Pol turned to face him, her breasts pressed against his chest. "That's what I thought," growled Trip.

Her hands involuntarily wrapped around his neck, tangling in his already messy hair. Trip pushed her back against the vanity in his effort to maximize contact. His words still lingered in the air between them as his mouth crushed against hers. His tongue shot into her mouth and she readily welcomed it, deepening the needy kiss. Trip's hands roamed freely under her shirt, down her back, before slipping just below the waistline of her shorts.

T'Pol broke the kiss and looked into Trip's eyes. Breathing heavily she again posed her question. "Why did you come here? To finish what was started in Engineering? In the turbolift?" She turned back around so they both faced the mirror. She glared at his image again. "You wish to see me lose control?"

"Yes," Trip grunted. His head bent to kiss her neck and shoulder, his hands stroked her stomach. She tipped her head to the side and closed her eyes. She concentrated on his lips dancing across her skin, sending gooseflesh down her arms. She shuddered.

Opening her eyes a few moments later, T'Pol found Trip staring at her in the mirror. She returned his gaze, noting his hands had stilled on her stomach. With a simple blink of her eyes, she acknowledged the dare. Her left hand covered his while her right hand grasped at the material of his sweats.

Trip's right hand disappeared slowly down the front of her shorts this time. He thrust a knee between her legs, spreading them. His gaze didn't waver from hers. T'Pol's left hand was guiding his up to her breast while the hand down her pants stroked her wet sex. She felt his breathing change, the pulse from his now engorged penis thudding against her buttocks. T'Pol leaned back against him, their heads knocking lightly against each other. His fingers swept up and down her swollen folds. Trip's middle finger found its way inside her, followed shortly by another. He dipped them in and withdrew them at an agonizingly slow pace. Her own respiration was growing more erratic as his thumb found her clitoris. Trip rubbed himself against her in time with his hand, creating friction for them both. Their gazes remained locked in the mirror, neither blinked.

Her left hand had fallen from his, which rhythmically tweaked her hard nipple under her t-shirt. T'Pol reached behind her and found his penis. Trip pushed himself into her hand with a small grunt. She could see the beads of sweat lining his brow, a slow smile spreading across his face. The stubble of his jaw grazed her cheek. His fingers had picked up the pace now, thrusting madly as he watched her control slipping. He withdrew his fingers entirely to concentrate on her clitoris. Around and around they circled it. T'Pol inhaled sharply and gave him a not-so-gentle squeeze. He bucked his hips. As she approached her climax, she idly noted that her mouth hung open. T'Pol sucked in her bottom lip and bit down hard, fighting the urge to close her eyes. 

"Look at me," he whispered encouragingly into her ear, his blue eyes glinting. Trip's wicked grin grew wider as he felt her come, her muscles clenching around his fingers. He could feel her legs shaking, her spine rigid yet she did not close her eyes. He rode out the waves of her orgasm, still stroking her, still not breaking eye contact. T'Pol relaxed slightly, letting out her breath in a long slow exhale, her hand still wrapped around him through his sweats.

She turned to face him in the circle of his arms. Trip leaned in to kiss her again, the urgency of the first kiss dissipated. It was slow and deep this time. T'Pol, not forgetting his needs, tugged his sweats down enough for his penis to spring free. She ran her hands over his chest and down his hard stomach. Her fingers trailed down to his pubic hair. T'Pol lightly scraped her nails up his shaft to the head of his penis, sweeping her thumb over it. She felt him growl deep in his throat through their kiss as she began to stroke him again. Her hand slid up and down his shaft, her thumb circling the head of his penis at the up-stroke. She massaged his testicles briefly at every down-stroke, squeezing his shaft on the way back up again.

Trip's breathing grew more erratic and he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. He watched her stroking him and moaned as she quickened the pace with her hands, her face now buried in his neck, sucking the hot flesh there. T'Pol's left hand soon joined in as her right one reached down lower, behind his scrotum. When she pushed on that spot below his anus and with one last yank on his shaft, Trip's hips thrust her back against the vanity once again. He came with a cry and shuddered as she continued to stroke him.

When the last spasm subsided Trip pulled back and looked at her. T'Pol's eyes were still filled with doubt, an expression that no doubt mirrored his own. But there was something else there. He bent down and kissed her forehead.

"We'll figger this out, T'Pol," he said gently. "We'll figger it out..." His voice trailed off.

As he stroked her back, Trip looked at his reflection in the mirror. Even though the man staring back at him was the same one he looked at each day, something was different. What had they done?


End file.
